Am I A Good Man?
by technotreegrass
Summary: Ashi's new man takes her back to the Blue Monkey club. Can she forget about her ex and focus on him instead? A Valentine's Day fic, but this isn't fluff.


_Author's Note: This may be late, but I don't care. Happy Valentine's Day! Thank you Heart for inadvertently inspiring me to write a Valentine's Day fic, thank you Rotodisk for the image that inspired this fic, and thank you orenashii for helping me with the problem paragraph._

 _Image found here: rotodisk dot tumblr dot com /image/160957166427_

* * *

Ashi steeled herself as she stood before the all-too familiar, even if it was nondescript, door. _He can't dictate my life. I go where I please._ But did she really want to be _here?_ Everything felt wrong: her hands remained at her side instead of on the arm of her escort, the white pinstripe sleeve below the fist that knocked on the door instead of the black that she was accustomed to, the doorman's eyes wide with surprise instead of a respectful smile as the slot slid open, letting them in without even bothering to check the list. "Miss Ashi." What once felt like a title of high respect now sounded hollow, a desperate clinging to a past that could never be reclaimed.

"You've been here before?" Dean asked, surprised at how smoothly that went. The Blue Monkey was notoriously hard to get into. He spent a week working on the proper attitude and word usage to convince the bouncer to let them in.

"Yes," she said, taking in the familiar sight around her, feeling a mix of comfort and sadness. The more accurate answer? This was her home every Saturday night for almost a year. She never imagined coming back here, not without _him,_ but when Dean offered to take her here for Valentine's Day, she couldn't tell him that it wasn't a good idea and destroy the pride on his face.

"Swinging place, eh babe? I love it," he commented, casually taking a seat at a free table near the band, watching the people on the dance floor. Ashi's eyes widened as she realized what was happening. This wasn't just any table, this was _their_ table, and that was _his_ chair Dean was sitting in. _Of all the seats here, he had to choose this one._ She took a calming breath. It wasn't worth fighting over. If she was going to make it through the night, she had to let go of the past. Easier said than done.

"Drinks?" The waitress asked as she approached, barely hiding the double-take she took when she saw Ashi. "Welcome back, miss. The usual?"

"Please." She didn't hear Dean's order, distracted by the empty stools at the bar. A vivid memory came back of her and _him_ occupying those same seats, laughing riotously at something she can't recall, but the sheer _joy_ on both their faces is something she could never forget, and most likely never to experience ever again.

"I'll be right back, babe. Mind my drink when it comes?"

"Of course," she automatically replied, wiping the tear that slipped out from her eye, grateful that he didn't notice. She didn't bother watching Dean leave, or offer directions to the men's room. Wherever he went, she didn't really care. This place, this music, this _table,_ it was starting to be too much for her. _He_ was gone, and she was okay with that, so long as she never had to think about _him,_ but there was no escape. The Blue Monkey Club is where they met, where they first kissed, where they fell in love. The problems in their relationship just didn't exist when they were here.

The waitress came back, expertly balancing a loaded tray as she placed their drinks on the table. "Yours is on the house, miss. The bartender insisted, but your friend will still have to pay."

"That's fine, thank you," Ashi smiled meekly at her. _Whiskey,_ she mused, wrapping her fingers around the familiar glass. _Please be strong enough to help me forget._ She knocked it back, smiling at the familiar warmth filling her and the peace it offered her troubled mind.

"Ashi."

Her hand trembled slightly, nearly dropping the glass as her grip suddenly went from slack to tight, but she refused to give _him_ the pleasure of seeing her rattled. She carefully placed it back down on the table, taking a quick calming breath to steel herself. "Hello, Jackie," she replied with a cold, stern tone of voice. Never mind that she dreamed of him every night since she last saw him, yearned to hear his sultry voice again, even though he made it clear he didn't feel the same about her the last time they met.

She looked up and lost some of her resolve as she met his eyes. The confidence she was so accustomed to seeing was gone, replaced by vulnerability, as if _she_ had the power to hurt _him,_ the biggest crime lord in the city. The man that many claimed remained calm while resorting to violence to get his way; who controlled his men through fear of failure; who got hardened criminals to wet themselves in terror without raising his voice. She never saw any of this for herself though. He was great at keeping his profession separate from her. But she saw the aftermath of what happened when people crossed Jackie the Blade, saw people fawn over his celebrity status as if they feared punishment if they didn't. She only knew the man who was as gentle as a lamb and treated her with the utmost respect. The man she loved so dearly, but he didn't feel the same.

He held out his hand and she immediately took it, silently leading her to the dance floor. It's been little over a year since she last danced with him, but muscle memory never forgot. Their bodies knew exactly what to do while their hearts hesitated to accept the truth. Their eyes, wet with unshed tears, often shared the same expression, _is this real? Am I dreaming?_ She wants to speak, to tell him he's beautiful in his appropriately themed black and red pinstripe suit, confess how much she wants him back, but to say a word would surely end this illusion. She instead happily followed his lead as he guides her through complicated dance steps to the fast paced jazz song that played, savoring the fire that feel of his arm around her waist and the hand that held hers. She never wanted this moment to end. For a moment, they were invincible. Nothing could tear them apart. As the song came to an end, she threw herself at him, holding him as tightly as possible, resting her head on his chest, letting her tears stain his suit as she felt him return the gesture, a hand buried in her hair as he desperately clung to her. _He does care!_

"I love you, Jackie," she admitted, and as predicted, the illusion shattered, and reality reared its ugly head. She felt his body stiffen and pulled back slightly to look up at him, scared of what would happen next. He gently pushed her away, and he might as well have stabbed her with his trademark blade for all the pain it caused her. "No, you do not. You love the idea of me that you have built in your head."

"You're a good man," she insisted, having lost count of how many times they had this argument before. "I don't know why you can't see that."

The band started up again, now playing a slow song. He offered her his hands again, and she accepted, but their argument continued even as they waltzed.

"What kind of 'good man' chooses this occupation? You do not know _the full extent_ of the things I have done. You would rightfully call me a monster."

"Enlighten me then," she challenged. She knew he profited from drug trafficking, extortion, illegal gambling, had no restraints when it came to violence, and notched more than a few kills on his sword and guns. He refused to tell her any of this, didn't want to make her an accessory or a tool the police could use against him, but she wasn't blind. She kept up with local news, ran into a few of his associates, and kept her eyes and ears open.

He opened his mouth, as if ready to tell her, but he promptly closed it. Was it fear of the wrong people overhearing his confessions? People jumped when Jackie the Blade spoke. The employees would give them a private room where they could talk in peace. "I cannot," he conceded, shame clouding his features. "I do not wish to burden you with such horrors."

"You've done bad things, but that doesn't mean you're a bad man."

"How can you possibly say that?" He demanded.

"You were always kind and gentle to me; a perfect gentleman. You never made demands, never expected sexual favors. You never took advantage of me when I was drinking, and always made sure my needs were met when we made love. Nights of laughter, of cuddling with no pressure to take it further. You took care of me when I had the flu, even though you caught it from me. I could go on." He flinched and looked away. She guided his eyes back to hers with a hand on his cheek. "No monster would do all that if there wasn't _good_ inside of them."

He covered her hand with his, shyly smiling at her, accepting her assessment of him. She smiled back, only to frown again as she saw Jackie's eyes narrow and glare at someone behind her. _Not again._ He was always possessive and protective of her, recalling an incident where Jackie was ready to pummel a drunk who made a passing comment at her. She begged him to stop, and he reluctantly obeyed, but the next day she found a dry cleaning receipt, dated 6 AM that morning, stated to remove bodily fluid from a linen suit. She was certain that she didn't stop him, only delayed the man's punishment. In typical form, Jackie denied everything, claiming the fluid was his.

She turned around, and her heart plummeted as she saw Dean's retreating form. After all the trouble he went through to give her a romantic night out, here she was with another man, but still made no attempt to chase after him. Her heart had chosen Jackie and she wanted somehow, someway, to get back with him.

"He is a lucky man to earn your affection."

"Then why is your tone laced with jealousy?" She snapped, getting tired of this game. Either Jackie was hers or he wasn't, and she could go back to forever mourning the loss while she tried to move on with another. "Why did you approach me tonight? What is it you hope to achieve? What we had was just a fling!"

He stopped dead in his tracks, his grip on her tightening. She paled as she saw the world famous scowl cross his face, the trademark expression Jackie the Blade wore just before things got dangerous. She saw it a few times before, but always directed at other people, _never_ her. For the first time ever, she was afraid of him, afraid of what he might do. "A _fling?_ You think what we had was just a _fling?"_

 _"You_ told me to leave, to never come back," her voice was choked with emotion as she threw his words back in his face from that painful day long ago. Fear and adrenaline battled inside her for dominance as his eyes got darker and his jaw clenched in anger. Whatever he did to her, it would be worth it so long as she was able to tell him how she felt. He may be a powerful man, but that didn't mean he had the right to play with her emotions like he did. "You don't care about me."

 _"I love you, Ashi,"_ he growled. Her heart stopped for a moment as her mouth hung open. Did she really hear him correctly? "Do you not understand? It hurt me gravely to send you away, but I had no choice. I cannot risk you getting hurt because of my life choices, from either the police trying to get you on accessory charges, or a villain using you to get to me. I made my life choices; you shouldn't have to suffer because of them."

"And I love _you,_ Jackie, the good _and_ bad inside of you."

"You deserve better than me."

"There is _no one_ better for me then _you_ ," she argued.

They were silent as they looked into each other's eyes, each gauging the other. "You really believe that," he whispered in disbelief.

"With all my heart," she replied.

"Then I need to _be_ the man you see me as," he said with determination. Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked at her, as if committing every inch of her face to memory. Such a look scared her, like he knew they'd never see each other again. She couldn't bear it, and distracted him the best way she knew how. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. He responded immediately, his lips crushing hers, and she melted into him, blown away by his passion. He could always make her putty in his arms, but this was something new, like she was kissing a completely different man. It felt like it lasted forever, but at the same time, it ended all too soon as they broke apart, both of them breathless. He softly smiled and wiped away the tears that she didn't know she had shed. "I love you, Ashi," he repeated. "I always have, and I always will."

"I love you too."

He smiled and kissed her one last time before walking away. She attempted to follow, but stopped. If she was welcome to follow him, he would have told her so. She watched him head toward the door, and her heart stopped a moment as he turned, looking back at her. Did he change his mind? No, just one last brief smile goodbye, before he walked out the door and out of her life once more.

She slowly made her way back to the table, expecting it to be empty, but there sat Dean, eagerly awaiting her return. _He wants to humiliate me in front of everyone when he breaks up with me? I suppose I deserve it._ "I'm sorry," she said, interrupting Dean before he could even get a syllable out. She deserved whatever he intended to do, but he had to know she never intended to hurt him.

"Who was he?" He asked calmly, more curious then angry, catching Ashi off guard.

"The love of my life," she answered honestly, sitting down, and telling him the story of her and Jackie over drinks. His expression was hard to read, but he remained attentive throughout. She never told him about her past lovers and asked no questions about his. It was only fair, she thought, to keep the past in the past, but there was no escaping the love she felt for Jackie, much as she tried. Even torture would never make her say it out loud, but Dean was merely adequate compared to the love and fulfillment that Jackie gave her.

They left shortly after she finished her story. Dean claimed everything was okay, that he understood why she left him, but she still felt guilty for ruining his evening, and she couldn't deny the awkward vibe between them. Even the usual kiss before bed felt more perfunctory then fueled by any kind of emotion. He slept with his back toward her, and she clutched the blanket, silently crying. How long would it be before the breakup? Was this chasm between them something they could cross over together? Why couldn't she walk out of the club with Jackie on her arm?

* * *

"Ashi, Ashi, wake up!" He frantically shook her shoulder, not letting up until she finally opened her eyes, still in a half asleep state.

"Huh, wha, Jackie?"

He frowned and simply motioned toward the TV, "take a look."

"Crime lord Shinjiro Shimono, better known as Jackie the Blade, turned himself in to Chicago police last night. He is cooperating with the police, confessing to an assortment of crimes and completely cooperating with police." The newscaster spoke over video showing Jackie in handcuffs, still wearing the suit he wore the night before. Ashi cried out in horror, finally figuring out the mystery behind his cryptic words last night. Was _this_ his plan? Atone for his crimes by serving jail time?

"I was told I am a good man despite what I have done. I wish to prove it to her and attempt to make amends." Jackie spoke directly to the camera, ignoring the microphone in his face.

"Who is this mystery woman?" A reporter asked, to which Jackie gave him the world famous scowl.

"That is the only thing I will _never_ tell you," he replied with a growl.

"He really does want to protect me," she said in disbelief, a tear sliding down her cheek.

"Considering the man's long list of crimes and offenses, it could be decades before he is released from jail."

"Oh Jackie!" Ashi cried out, throwing herself at Dean and sobbing into his shoulder, seeking comfort when she had no right to ask it of him, grateful when he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.


End file.
